


trust love

by shannedo



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Fair Game has a baby, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Sleep Deprived New Parents, Swearing, tags to be added with updates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: They’d been through hell and come back alive. Nearly lost each other. Won a war. Stopped the end of the world.The sheer terror of being completely responsible for the life of something so tiny and defenceless dwarfed everything else in comparison.aka Fair Game are new parents and that's exactly as beautiful and chaotic as it sounds.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 56
Kudos: 246





	1. four months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this was originally going to be posted as a one-shot once it was completed, but then Ch12 punched the heart right out of me, so I'm here to maybe cheer people up? Enjoy, kids. I love ya <3

A crackle of static. A high-pitched whining.

A cold foot on his calf.

“Mmph,” Clover mumbled. Dug his face further into the pillow.

“Cloves, babe,” the voice sounded weathered, hoarse with sleep.

Clover groaned. A short and emphatic _hmph._ Didn’t lift his head.

The whining was now mounting into a cry.

The pressure on his calf was now a pair of cold feet.

_Hmph._

“Clover,” Qrow said, this time with a stronger presence, so that Clover could hear in his voice that he was staring blankly at the ceiling, contemplating whacking him with a pillow. “Your child.”

With a sigh that sounded more childish than he was willing to admit, Clover pushed himself up onto one arm and swung a leg out from under the covers. Cold air hit his bare skin like an arctic blast out on the tundra of Solitas. _Ugh._ “How come when he’s crying, he’s my child?”

Qrow mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like _my child would never be so needy_ but since marriage was about picking your battles, Clover couldn’t have said for certain and let it slide. He yanked on a pair of sweatpants thrown haphazardly on top of a dresser – because everything had been a bit haphazard recently – and pocketed the baby monitor. He padded down the hallway in socked feet.

The shattered moon cast long shadows on the floorboards and a chill crept up his spine. Even Patch got cold at this time of year, he’d found. The nursery was warmer than the hallway though. They _had_ been doing work to their little fixer-upper house since they’d moved in – little DIY projects that played into Clover’s can-do attitude and Qrow’s newfound desire to _nest_ – but that had all taken a backseat in the last six months. Finishing the nursery before Jay arrived had become top priority. And after he’d been born, Clover couldn’t even remember the last time he’d _slept_ for four consecutive hours, let alone felt the desire to knock a dresser together.

The crying in the cradle quietened, though, as soon as Clover opened the door. Went from a full-blown wail to a more settled grizzle. “Yeah, you just woke up alone and you were scared, huh?” he said, half through a yawn, as he bent down over the wooden bars and plucked the bundle of blankets up into his arms. “That’s scary, hmm?” he murmured, bouncing the grizzling bundle in his arms.

Jay was a little pink in the face from his efforts, and he’d nearly kicked off the multicolour blanket that Auntie Blake had knitted for him. Despite Qrow’s grumpy and sleep deprived protestations, the thick and unruly thatch of black hair on his head and sleepy glimpses of deep red eyes were dead giveaways as to Jay’s parentage. But so were the footie pyjamas covered in tiny green clovers.

Clover hummed sleepily and made for the kitchen, dragging the blanket back over his son’s tiny form to protect him from the winter chill in the rest of the house. He was grateful that the tears had subsided. They had soon learned that when Jay really worked himself up into a state, he was pretty impossible to quieten.

“Strong lungs,” Qrow had remarked one morning after a sleepless night. He’d been staring into a steaming mug of coffee like he might find the meaning of life hidden at the bottom. Or maybe he had just been too tired to shift his gaze. “In the tribe-“ he broke off to yawn, “we would’ve kept him.”

Most days, reminders that his husband was raised by bandits and had trained so that he could murder huntsmen hit with all the tenderness of an anvil. “That’s nice,” Clover had said simply, and took a hearty gulp of his own coffee.

Now, Jay was drinking down a bottle of formula with gusto. Unlike Qrow, who had played a hand in raising two children before, Clover hadn’t mastered the art of getting Jay to take the bottle slowly. He normally ended up having to _shhh_ and pat and bounce and pray his shoulder didn’t end up covered in sick. Once the bottle had finished, he hummed tunelessly and held his son against his chest, patting gently. Jay let out a little whine and then burped and Clover chuckled to himself. “There there, little bird,” he murmured. It was hard to be mad that it was three in the morning when your own little kid nuzzled into your neck like that. A tiny, pudgy hand gripped the neck of his pyjama shirt.

Back in the nursery, Clover lay Jay down in his cot, and the little boy’s eyelids were already getting heavy again. He tucked him in, and then just stood there for a second, smiling, looking.

They’d been through hell and come back alive. Nearly lost each other. Won a war. Stopped the end of the world.

The sheer terror of being completely responsible for the life of something so tiny and defenceless dwarfed everything else in comparison.

But so did the love. When he and Qrow had nothing else, they had love.

Always the love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just part 1/5, and there are many shenanigans to come, but I thought this part was good to post right now because I think a certain someone deserves love. Let me know what ya thunk, and I'll hopefully have part 2 out real speedy!
> 
> hmu @baelonthebrave on tumblr. Love and hugs <3


	2. fourteen months

Blake dropped Jay off in the afternoon.

She’d spent the past few hours alternately pushing his pram and holding his hand as he toddled unsteadily at the park, all as Yin ran rings around them, chattering nonsense at a hundred miles an hour. A couple of ice cream cones and a visit to Grandpa slash Uncle Tai later and they both seemed a little more sated, a little more worn down. Parks, grandparents and sugar crashes were blessed things. Even the most patient parent needed to run down their child’s battery somehow.

When they got back to the Branwen-Ebi cottage, Jay was struggling to keep his eyes open and Yin was holding onto the edge of her jacket, twirling a lock of golden blonde hair round and round her finger. That and the droop in her cat ears were tell-tale signs that Blake had about fifteen minutes to get her back home and down for a nap before she started getting grouchy. Hence the drop-off of little Jay.

Clover had beckoned her into the house, smiling and thanking her endlessly for taking the baby while he’d been on a conference call for work. “It was just General Schnee and some busybodies. Needed my opinion on running security for an event,” he explained, holding Jay on his hip when Blake passed him back. Even with Jay getting bigger, Clover’s broad-shouldered brawn still dwarfed him, making him look tiny and thinner than one of Clover’s arms.

As soon as he spotted his toys, Jay seemed to catch a second wind. He pointed excitedly to something vaguely fuzzy in the corner of the slightly messy living room and as Blake surveilled the clutter, she was reminded of a conversation with Yang. “ _No, Blake, I’m not exaggerating, Uncle Qrow really doesn’t know how to use a hoover, he was literally raised in a forest.”_ That combined with a fourteen-month-old made for a messy but lived-in home. As Yang and Blake could attest to, if she was being honest with herself about the state of her own home.

Clover set the fussing boy down on his feet and held his pudgy little hand until Jay was certain he’d gotten his balance. Then, Jay set off, tugging Yin around the couch and over to the corner to show her what looked like a fluffy Beowulf plushie. Of course.

Blake shook her head fondly. You can take the huntsmen out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of the huntsmen.

Looking back to Clover, she smiled. “How is Winter?” she asked.

Clover gave a considering shrug that said _so-so._ “She’s okay. She reaches out to me a lot, asking for my advice. She calls me so often and at such weird times that Qrow says of all the people I could be having an affair with, did it have to be her?”

Blake hid a giggle behind her hand at that. She could practically hear the disdainful tone Yang’s Uncle would use in bemoaning not the fact of an affair, but with _Winter Schnee_ of all people. Not to mention the fact that the only thing straight about Clover was the pin on his jacket.

But the mention of Winter made something stir in her gut. With a pang of guilt, she turned her head and watched their children make mock growling noises and play tug of war with a stuffed animal. “Y’know, I can never quite get away from the feeling that we’re burying our heads in the sand.”

Clover followed her gaze, his own shoulders taking a tired slump. “Being here, raising kids, while the world is still bandaging itself back together?” he sighed heavily. Whilst still doing some long-distance work to help General Schnee in her new role, Clover was mainly a stay-at-home dad right now. In fact, there was a small collection of their old gang clustered on Patch and firmly _not_ taking huntsmen jobs at the moment. “Yeah, I can relate to that kind of guilt.”

“But-“ Blake began, her ears folding in on themselves, “But we earned it, right? We saved the world. Won a war. Nearly lost everything in the process. If anyone deserves an early retirement, it’s us, right?” The tremor in her voice said she maybe needed more reassurance than she’d thought she had.

There was a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and Blake looked up to see Clover looking as pure and strong as ever, even if there was a deep crease between his brows. “I know Remnant needs healing, but I think _we_ have healing to do too, Blake. All of us. After everything we’ve been through…” his eyes went cloudy and somehow, she knew he was thinking about his husband. She thought of her wife. And Adam Taurus’ twitching, shuddering body between them. Her stomach rolled. “We need to heal,” Clover said, this time with a degree of certainty. “To be able to help other people, to help Remnant stitch itself back together, we have to heal. That’s how we give _them_ a fighting chance.” Two cousins, one with a head of gold and the other a tuft of black, fought on, not paying much attention to the brooding of the adults.

The sound of the door opening behind her scared her more than it should have, really. She didn’t have much time to consider it though as Qrow came in the door in a whirlwind of paper and chatter. “You would _not_ believe the day I’ve had, guys – who would’ve thought that a bunch of twelve-year olds could be so imaginative with weapon designs? Little _psychopaths,”_ he growled, launching a stack of grading onto the already messy breakfast bar. He used his height advantage to drop a kiss onto the crown of Blake’s head. Looked at his husband for a second and then settled for kissing him on the cheek. Blake blushed, smiling. Still not used to a Qrow Branwen with a genuine joy for life. It was something she could get used to. She hoped he could, too.

Clover was just giving him that disgusting soft look that she reckoned she used on Yang.

“Jay? Yin? Get your butts over here and give a tired old man a cuddle.”

“Later, Uncle Qrow! We’re _reading,”_ Yin called, in her high voice, stretching up onto a shelf to grab a book that Jay was pointing and making warbled sounds at.

As if finally arriving in the room, Qrow looked between Clover and Blake, sensing the tension that had dissipated only a moment ago, and said, “I feel like I’m interrupting a _talk-“_

Clover tutted. “Tactful and respecting of privacy as always,” he said, with a roll of his eyes that was more fond than annoyed.

“ _Tactful_ is my middle name,” Qrow said, looping an arm around Clover’s back. “Don’t you remember that part? _Will you, Qrow Tactful Branwen take thee, Clover Smug Ebi?”_

Clover’s eye glimmered with a playfulness that was becoming more and more familiar and was about to retort when-

_Achoo!_

Evidently, Qrow’s lack of knowledge about housework extended to dusting, if the book that Yin had just pulled off the shelf was anything to go by. The small cloud of dust had kicked up in front of Jay, whose nose had twitched, red eyes snapped shut, and from him came the most adorable little sneeze-

The only thing was-

Well, Jay had vanished.

“Uhhhh-“ Blake intoned, staring at the spot he’d stood in. Even her enhanced vision didn’t wield much insight.

“Jay?”

“Jay!”

Yin let out a shriek of laughter, pointed, and said “Silly Jay!”

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Qrow _vaulted_ over the couch.

Clover was there a split second later. “Oh my god. _Qrow.”_

Blake couldn’t contain her bursting confusion and curiosity a second longer and rushed forward.

_Cheep. Cheepcheep._

A puff of feathers was twitching and hopping on the carpet. Half-formed _cheeps_ and _squawks_ bursting out with alarm. Dark, fluffy down with shocks of blue green.

“Does he do that _often?”_ Blake asked, the mild terror she was feeling encroaching on something more like panic.

She was ignored entirely, though.

“Qrow, do something.” Clover was holding Qrow’s upper arm in a vice like grip.

The indignant sound that came out of Yang’s uncle could only be described as a squawk. “Do _something?_ Do _what?_ Our kid just burst into a _cloud of feathers-“_

_“Ha!_ Jay bird-“ Yin was crouching down, edging closer to the terrified little chick, and Blake was suddenly distinctly aware that her daughter was _not helping._

“Yin, honey!” she called, “Stay back. You’re really big to him, you could scare him.”

Clover and Qrow were still bickering. If utter panic, yelling, and flapping of arms could be described as bickering.

“ _You_ are a bird-“

“-well spotted, Elite Atlesian Military Officer-“

“-our _baby_ is _shitting_ on the carpet-“

“-hey, don’t say shit in front of my niece-“ Qrow snapped, then realised himself, “Ah shit-“

“-speak to him!” Clover’s voice was at a fever pitch now.

Jay was hopping around on the carpet, flapping bony little wings coated in fluff.

“ _How,_ mastermind?” Qrow growled.

“ _In bird!_ Speak to him in _bird!_ Like _caw caw-“_

“-if you ever do that again, I will seriously consider divorce-“

“Guys!” Blake yelled over both men. She was holding onto her daughter to stop the delighted little girl from getting too close to and scaring the tiny bird. Yin was enjoying this far too much, but Blake had only herself to blame for that for having a baby with Yang Xiao Long.

Clover and Qrow both whipped around to look at her, genuine terror writ large on their expressions. _Oh brothers._ Give them life or death conflict, no-win situations, even the literal harbinger of the apocalypse and they could cope. But parenthood? She never thought she’d see two of the greatest living huntsmen in Remnant rendered utterly useless.

But then, on their worst days, that’s how she and Yang felt too. It was just part of the gig.

“Parenting one-oh-one,” Blake said, with a steel in her tone that she’d definitely learned from her sister-in-law. “When you fuck up and you don’t know what to do, do the next right thing.”

Clover and Qrow looked at each other, then to their tiny infant bird child. Then back to Blake. Not even a flicker of a flame of actual _thought_ between them.

“I mean,” Blake said, pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger, “Qrow, you need to talk to him. As a crow.”

* * *

“So, _what?”_ Yang asked later, after Yin had been put to bed.

At bedtime, her little girl had looked at Blake and said, “But Mommy, I’m still confused,” and it had been all Blake could do not to laugh because _yeah, same._

Now, she was sat at the kitchen table with Yang, a half-empty bottle of wine between them, recounting the day’s events. “So, he turned into a crow and went and… I don’t know, _chirped_ with him?”

For the entire story, Yang had countered between glugging her wine and nearly spitting it out in shock because _brothers, this family was too much._ Now, she looked at Blake with pure disbelief written on her face. “And?”

“Well…” Blake trailed off, because that was the point where none of them really knew what was happening. Qrow, as a crow, had hopped onto the coffee table and fluttered down next to the tuft of feathers and chirps on the rug. “He put his wing around him – that was cute, _really_ cute – and it took a minute for Jay to stop shaking. You should have seen him, he was _quivering,_ like a leaf. It was really upsetting. But Qrow was there. Just, kind of, holding him.”

Yang had messed up her already unruly head of hair by worrying it over the course of the story. This sort of story just _needed_ to be recounted though, if only to make them feel better about the grey hairs they were both finding on their heads, trying to manage the rowdiest three-year-old in Remnant.

These days, one of Grandpa Tai’s favourite hobbies was sitting back and watching Yang try to curb Yin whilst Qrow wrestled with an unruly Jay. Taiyang would chuckle to himself, prop his feet up on the coffee table, and then say, “You know what this is, Blake? It’s payback.”

“And then what?” Yang said. She was running her finger around the lip of the wine glass, and the high-pitched ringing from the glass and the way her wedding ring flashed light back into Blake’s eyes emanated like a physical manifestation of Yang’s worry. “Did they just- pop back up, person-sized?”

“Well, _yeah,”_ Blake said, stilling her wife’s hand with her own. The sound was a bit too high for her overly sensitive ears. Yang smiled sheepishly and instead switched to rubbing the back of Blake’s hand with her thumb. “It took a minute, and a fair amount of squawking, but then they were just- there. Qrow was sat on the rug and Jay was in his lap, curled into him. Jay looked upset. His eyes were red and puffy.”

“ _Damn,”_ Yang muttered, “Uncle Clover must have been ripping his hair out.”

“Oh, he _was,”_ Blake said, punctuating the word with a swig of wine. Over the years, she’d seen Clover Ebi at his best and at his worst, but she’d never seen him so utterly _helpless._ “As soon as they were back, he was, like, tackling them to the carpet. I’d be shocked if he’s even let go of Jay yet.” She paused for a second, watched the glint of the candle on the table play off Yang’s golden hair and lilac eyes. “Qrow said that Jay seemed to _get_ it, though, enough that maybe he won’t panic if or when it happens again. After they’d spoken- or squawked- or whatever. Not totally get it – I don’t think even Qrow gets it. He obviously didn’t think it was hereditary. Why would he? _You’ve_ never turned into a bird.”

“Hmm,” Yang frowned, and sipped from her glass. “But my semblance has Raven written all over it. Branwen temper. Branwen eyes,” she considered it for a second, but then sighed in defeat, resting her head in her prosthetic hand. “I have no idea. _None._ We should just call Oscar.”

“Yeah, I think we’re all way out of our depth here,” Blake said with a sigh.

Yang nodded. But then, Blake spotted an all too familiar flicker in her eyes. Her wife pushed herself up from the table and, on slightly unsteady feet, went over to the cupboard and pulled something out. She came back to Blake and plonked the object down on the table, then planted herself back down in her seat with a _hmph._

Blake looked at the mug, and then at Yang, and then back at the mug. “What are you doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yang picked up the bottle of wine between them and poured a generous red glug into the mug that read _World’s Best Mom._ “Look, I just know when to celebrate my victories.”

_Ugh._ “This again?” Blake asked, in disbelief.

“Have you seen _my kid_ bursting into an actual bird anytime lately?”

About two years ago, when they’d found out that Clover and Qrow were going to be parents and their own Yin would have a little cousin, tears had been shed and hugs exchanged. But then, the Branwens had been – predictably – _Branwens_ and started bickering about who would be the superior parent. Of course, Qrow thought he had the edge, because he’d waited until significantly later in life to become a father and thus had more relevant life experience. Predictably, Yang thought _she_ had the edge because-

Well, because she wasn’t _Qrow._

It had been a running joke (but not really a joke, much to Blake and Clover’s dismay) ever since.

Now, Yang was glugging wine out of the _World’s Best Mom_ mug that only appeared when she basked in her totally mature victories over her Uncle. Blake regretted helping Yin pick that thing out for her for her last birthday. “Man, wait until Dad and Ruby hear about this.“

“Yet.”

Yang stopped mid-sip, and comically spoke around a mouthful of wine, “ _Whah?”_

Blake raised a dark eyebrow at her, her thumb running over the leg of her glass. “ _Yet._ Your kid hasn’t burst into a cloud of feathers _yet._ Yin is a quarter Branwen _and_ half Faunus. You like those odds?”

With that, Yang’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

The blonde huntress poured herself another hearty mug of wine and raised her drink in toast. “To the trials, tribulations, and _fucking terror_ of parenthood.”

Blake snickered, her ears flitting, and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew part 2 would be finished quick, but not _this_ quick. This is therapeutic though. I totally stole the idea for Qrow's kid turning into a bird from elleleh on tumblr (specifically this comic https://elleleh.tumblr.com/post/160212381041/happily-ever-after-au-comic-petals-and-feathers ) so full credit! I love elleleh, her art and her creativity, so fair dues!
> 
> Also, in case you didn't know, jays are corvids, so really, they brought this on themselves.
> 
> Let me know what you think with a kudos, review, or hmu on tumblr @baelonthebrave
> 
> I hope you're all well and okay. Much love <3


	3. two and a half years

Qrow was the lighter sleeper of the two of them.

They’d learnt that a long time ago – when _Qrow and Clover_ had just been stolen moments in army barracks, sneaking out at sunrise so that this could stay secret and _theirs_ for just a little while longer. Whilst Qrow could sleep for twice as long as Clover’s optimised military body clock, Qrow was also used to sleeping in the open, up trees, in places that were _vulnerable._ And the slightest twitches made him startle awake.

Needless to say, it had taken him awhile to get used to Clover’s snoring. But that was nothing that dragging Clover onto his side so that Qrow could nuzzle into him couldn’t solve. Or, if he was feeling mean, a simple jab of a bony elbow to Clover’s side.

The last two and a half years of Qrow’s life – or the first years of his son’s life – had been some of the best he could remember, that was for sure. He’d had beautiful moments as well as terrible moments spread across his entire life, of course. Sparring with sticks when he and Raven were kids. Arriving at graduation with Tai half an hour late, in some hellish limbo between hungover and still very _very_ drunk, but loving life. Yang softly asking to hold her baby sister for the first time. The way Summer snorted when she laughed and got embarrassed every time.

But this was the first time in a very long time that he could remember waking up and feeling some sort of anticipation for each day as it came. The first time where the good wasn’t just sporadic reminders to stay strong but actually felt like he was reaping the rewards of being a good person all his days. Not even the big stuff – like Jay calling him _“Da,”_ for the first time – just small stuff like the way his clothes smelled like his little family and his _home._

His sleep had become heavier, more relaxed, with time. Now, when the house made eerie noises in the night as it settled, he only stirred, and groaned, and went back to sleep. No more jumping to where Harbinger was mounted on the wall, no more shaking Clover awake as panic gripped his chest.

The monster in the closet was slain.

The happily ever after was his.

_Just sleep, Qrow. You’ve earned it._

Happily ever after and eight hours a night never factored in the fickle sleeping patterns of children, though.

Tonight, the red alarm clock on his bedside table was blinking two AM at him when Jay woke him up.

“Dad,” the little boy was murmuring, a small hand on Qrow’s upper arm. His voice was thick with tears and pitched high, and Qrow felt awareness creeping back into his senses.

“Mm?” he mumbled sleepily. Pressed the heel of one hand into one eye, then another. “Kiddo?”

“I…” Jay’s voice was warbling and uncertain. He hadn’t been the quickest to start speaking, and he was still largely unsure in his words. Qrow could tell that it still sometimes worried Clover, but he vaguely remembered from his own childhood being told that Raven had been forming whole sentences by the time he had decided to grace the tribe with a single word.

Qrow reached out and gently brushed raven black hair out of Jay’s eyes. He waited patiently.

Jay whimpered. “I peed,” he whispered.

Qrow’s heart panged, and he swung his legs out of the bed, careful to tuck the blankets in so that Clover wasn’t hit with a cold draught. His husband barely stirred, his breathing a light whistle. “It’s okay, Jay,” he said, voice low, and gently took a small hand in his own.

The floorboards creaked a little as they went out of the master bedroom and down the hall. Jay made a small murmuring sound and Qrow looked down at him, taking in the slump of his shoulders, the bow of his head. “What was that?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Jay said, talking to his feet.

Qrow crouched down next to him and put his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t say sorry, kiddo,” he said, rubbing up and down Jay’s arms, “accidents happen. It’s ok. Accidents help us learn.”

Jay wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He sniffed tearily and nodded.

“What if we get you changed and then you can come share with me and daddy?”

Jay nodded again. Qrow pulled him in tight for a hug and buried his nose in the little boy’s fluffy hair. The most precious thing in the entire world, so small he could fit under Qrow’s chin. When he pulled away, Jay’s fingers were curled into his t-shirt.

He took Jay’s hand again and led him to his room.

Qrow quickly grabbed a pair of clean pyjamas from the drawer – the Pumpkin Pete ones that Ruby had bought for Jay on her travels – and stripped the damp sheet off the tiny bed. He dumped the sheet in the washing machine on the way to the bathroom – it could be dealt with in the morning – and got the hot water running.

Once he was happy the water was at a nice, warm temperature, he helped Jay out of his wet pyjamas and then washed him off quickly in the bath. Jay brightened a little when Qrow pulled a warm, fluffy towel off the heated towel rack – one of Clover’s ideas – and started drying him down.

As an afterthought, Qrow ruffled Jay’s hair with the towel until it stuck up in all directions and then let the towel fall over deep red eyes. Jay squawked and giggled and tugged at the towel, totally lost under the fluffy cotton. “ _Dad!”_ he said, indignant, and Qrow could tell he was grinning like a madman.

Clean and dry and in his Pumpkin Pete pyjamas, Jay was tucked under Qrow’s arm like a sack of potatoes and carried back to the master bedroom, wriggling and kicking the entire way, to Qrow’s amusement.

At the door, Jay escaped from his father’s grip and then jumped up onto the bed, wiggling under the covers until he was lying in the middle of the mattress.

Clover actually did stir at that. _Small miracles,_ Qrow thought with a hint of amusement.

“Huh?” Clover murmured sleepily. He looked more than a little gormless when he was half asleep. Qrow wished he had his scroll so that he could snap a picture of his own Sleeping Beauty.

“We had an accident,” Qrow said from the doorway, the warm light of the hall spilling into the room. “But we got it fixed, didn’t we, Jay?”

Jay nodded his head, and smiled a little, and that was enough for Qrow. He left to go to Jay’s room just as Clover rolled onto his side and helped Jay pull the covers up to his chin.

In his son’s room, Qrow tilted Jay’s mattress up onto its side and cracked the window, so that the damp spot could dry quicker. He was just about to switch the light off and leave when he caught sight of the picture frame on the dresser. Taken the day they brought Jay home, in the living room. Yang’s arms protectively curled around a tiny baby, grinning from ear to ear. To her right, Ruby barely maintaining control of her niece, who was determined to crawl _onto_ Jay to say hello. But Ruby didn’t seem to mind, her head thrown back in laughter as Yin’s tiny fist pushed at the barrier of her arms.

Qrow smiled to himself and decided he would call Ruby in the morning, before he left for work.

Back in their bedroom, he was greeted with the sight of Jay sprawled out like a starfish in the middle of their bed. Limbs pointing in four directions and hair pointing in many more. He’d passed out pretty quick, his chest rising and falling slowly. Clover was curled around him in a way that could only be described as protective. Narrowly missing a hand to the face, Clover had his arm rested on top of the covers, over Jay’s tummy. His brow seemed a little furrowed in sleep, so Qrow turned the hall light off and shut the bedroom door.

Muscle memory let him find his way across the dark bedroom and slip in under the covers. He too edged in closer until he could catch the way Jay smelled of baby shampoo and fabric softener and something uniquely _them._

Qrow found where Clover’s arm rested on top of the covers, curled over Jay and he brushed the back of Clover’s hand with his thumb.

He was a little surprised when Clover intertwined their fingers and gave his hand a squeeze. Maybe not so asleep, then.

“Night, babe,” a deep voice murmured to him.

Qrow smiled into the pillow and listened to the faint in and out of his little boy’s breath.

“G’night, Cloves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter & sweeter one, cos I think the next one is gonna be a doozy! Idk if anyone's noticed how little I actually know about children, but everything I know about a kid's development is from my insane little niece, so if it's different to your experience then chalk it up to her being a devil spawn child? Seriously, though, Yin's entire personality is based off of her lol.
> 
> Hope you liked it, guys, and hope you're all doing well. Let me know what ya thought with a kudos, a review or drop me a message @baelonthebrave on tumblr! Lots of love <3


	4. three years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... a lot sadder than I meant it to be? Sorry, this fic is supposed to be pretty fluffy, but I have a lot of complicated feelings about STRQ :( Hope you all like it anyway!

When Qrow had hit forty, he’d made Clover promise to stop putting an age equivalent number of candles on his cake.

And sure, there had been a slightly overdramatic but slightly tearful discussion about Qrow’s troubled relationship with age and how it fed into his considerable survivor’s guilt. But then Qrow had pulled the _forty candles on a cake is an actual fire hazard and endangers our loved ones_ card and Clover had begrudgingly conceded.

This year, he’d gone with the usual three candles. One for Qrow to make a wish on and then one each for Jay and Yin, because they predictably wanted a shot. His family was gathered around the kitchen table, and Clover had a hand on his shoulder, leading the chorus of _Happy birthday._ Yin and Jay were perched on each of his knees and singing along tunelessly and Ruby was recording the whole affair on her scroll, hiding her snickers behind a gloved hand.

When Qrow and the kids blew out the candles, a cheer went up around them, and then Qrow was doling out slices of homemade chocolate cake onto all the waiting plates. He tried his best to be fair, but Yin got sneaked an extra big slice while her moms weren’t looking and Jay got the slice with the little crow sculpted out of icing, because “Dad, look at the _birdie.”_

They’d stoked a fire in the living room, but all the people piled into the relatively small space kept it warm, even deep in the chill of winter. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang and Penny had been quick to claim the couch, leaving Jaune, Oscar, Nora and Ren to sprawl out on the rug in front of the fire. Clover had claimed his regular armchair by the hearth and Yin and Jay had taken up a game of hide and seek, with Jay sporadically shifting into his jay bird form to take refuge on top of a bookshelf, a door frame, or once in Jaune’s hair, much to the blonde boy’s amusement.

Qrow and Tai lingered in the kitchen for a moment longer. Tai was elbow deep in soapy water, always insistent on being the good guest, and Qrow was grabbing them another beer from the fridge – a non-alcoholic one for himself, of course. Five years on the wagon, and he could honestly say he didn’t miss it one bit.

“Thanks,” Tai said, wiping off his hands and forearms on a tea towel before he took the beer bottle from Qrow. He clinked their bottles together. “Here’s to many more years, Qrow,” he said, and then took a swig.

“I’ll drink to that,” Qrow said, leaning against the counter and doing just that. Tai settled next to him and together they looked out across the open plan living room, watching as the kids – not so much _kids_ anymore – chatted nonsense and recounted old stories. It was rare to get them all in one room these days, which was odd, given how inseparable they’d been for years. Life had taken them all in different directions, sure, but they always found their way back to each other in the end. Aside from Yang and Blake, who lived a five-minute walk down the road, Qrow probably saw the most of Jaune and Oscar, who’d taken up teaching posts at Beacon. With Signal being a feeder school and Qrow himself being called in to teach at Beacon from time to time, seeing them so often was a strange but welcome reminder of a different life, and how far they’d all come. Ruby, Weiss, Penny, Ren and Nora still spent all their time travelling the world and protecting the innocent, and so long as they were happy doing that, Qrow tried not to worry too much. Clover was still trying to squeeze out of Ren and Nora when they all might expect a wedding invite in the post, but Qrow always chided him and said to leave the poor kids alone. That was the beauty of what they’d achieved – they all had _time_ now. The greatest luxury there ever was.

It was taking some getting used to. His entire life, his focus had been what the next step was to try and stop the evils that threatened to swallow them whole. Now though, he was enjoying the little things. How his biggest daily stress was making sure some kid didn’t take their eye out with whatever sword-axe-minigun monstrosity they’d dreamt up. Or whether he should bring a sweater to work or not, because if he got home for supper and complained that he’d been cold, Clover would say nothing but give him that patented _I told you so_ look. He worried about Jay _endlessly,_ but Tai had told him half a million times that he wouldn’t be a good parent if he _didn’t_ worry, and Qrow was finally starting to believe him. Three years in, raised by two huntsmen who knew more about combination dust ammo types than they knew about how actual normal people went about their lives and there had been no major mishaps. Not too shabby, was all Qrow was saying.

Qrow watched Jay shapeshift mid air and knock Yin into a heap on the rug, as Yang laughed and cheered loudly, and Clover and Blake looked like they were trying not to leap forward and pull them apart. He was trying to break Clover out of the bubble wrap parenting thing, he really was, but it was a slow process. He chuckled as the two cousins bickered about who had won that round.

He turned to grab his bottle from the counter again and caught Tai looking at him. The sapphire blue eyes of the man who’d been his constant companion since they’d been seventeen, now weathered with age but no less kind. “What?” Qrow asked, as he took another sip from his bottle.

Tai seemed to catch himself then and tittered. He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, man. I just… sometimes, this all doesn’t feel real.” He got this far off look in his eye. “I feel bad just for saying it, but somewhere along the line… I kind of gave up on the idea of you finding your happiness, you know?”

There was a twinge somewhere deep in Qrow’s chest, and he nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Kinda gave up on myself as well, if I’m honest.”

Tai bobbed his head, in understanding, then gave a cursory wave of his bottle at the people clustered in front of the fire. “They didn’t,” he said. “Not the kids. Not Clover.” He went to take another drink but stopped himself with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Qrow. For giving up on you,” Qrow went to speak but Tai stopped him with a gesture. “No. I mean it. We were all each other had for a while there. And I should have had more faith in you.”

“That was always her job,” Qrow said with a sad smile. “To have faith in us. Even when we didn’t.”

Tai bowed his head. “I miss her.”

“Me too,” Qrow said, with a nod. “For what it’s worth? You never gave up on me for a long time. Long after I’d given up on myself. And it meant… it meant everything, for a while.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “And look at us now. Who woulda thought?”

Tai smiled. “I’m really proud of you, Qrow.”

Qrow felt his cheeks flood with warmth at that. “Thanks, Tai.”

There was a beat of silence between them, then. The kind of comfortable silence you could only reach with a person who’d been by your side for half a lifetime. Maybe they’d wavered at times. Maybe they’d hurt each other. Said things they shouldn’t have. Done things they shouldn’t have. But they were still here, they still loved each other, and the two girls they’d raised between them were testament to that. That was irreplaceable.

Their silence was broken by the sound of a throaty croak. Both their heads whipped towards the kitchen window. To the hunched shape in the tree, barely distinguishable in the dying light. _“Brothers,”_ Qrow muttered, a sudden dread clutching his stomach in a vice like grip.

“More like _sister,_ ” Tai said, but his tone was so dry and barbed it could hardly be mistaken for his usual love of puns.

Qrow looked back at Tai, to the somewhat resigned look on his face. The others talked on in the living room, unaware of the new presence in their midst. “Did you-?”

“Know?” Tai frowned, looking almost a little insulted that Qrow had to ask. “No. I’m not exactly on her speed dial either, man.”

Qrow nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at that. But some issues in their relationship were just too deeply embedded to be healed by one conversation.

“She must be here for you,” Tai said with a sigh. “Maybe she got you a birthday card.”

“Then I’m gonna look like an asshole, I must have forgotten to pick one up for her,” he said, and Tai snorted.

Tai jerked his blonde head at the back door. “You can go talk to her. I’ll come up with something to tell them,” he said.

With a sigh, Qrow kicked himself off the counter and made for the door. “What did you always tell Port?”

“ _Qrow can’t come to class today, he’s saving puppies from flying Beowulves,”_ Tai parroted back, laughing.

Qrow grinned - not for the first time wondering why he was allowed to graduate at all - and braced himself against the door. Tai nodded at him, and that was about as reassured as he was ever going to feel, heading into this conversation, so he stepped outside into the cold.

The snow crunched under his shoes as he went out towards the treeline. His aura – rarely used these days – clung to him like a cloak, blocking out the worst of the chill. He eyed the large bird perched in the high branches and wondered how often she’d sat there watching his home, trying to work up the courage or the humility or whatever to come knock on the door.

“If you wanna talk, you’re gonna have to get down from there and start talking. It’s too cold to be out here waiting for when _you_ decide-“

Raven cut him off mid diatribe by dropping down out of the branches, shifting in the air and landing on her feet. She brushed herself off. Vibrant red eyes met darker, dimmer ones. “Little brother,” she greeted, her features in that constant mask of sternness.

Qrow didn’t do much to acknowledge her, just looking hard into her eyes. Tried to detect the tell-tale flicker, but he was surprised to discover she’d found more control over her powers in recent years. Good, because she’d been downright _dangerous_ before, when she’d decided to grace them with her presence at the end of the world.

“I thought we were _talking,”_ Raven said icily when he remained silent.

“And what exactly in the last two decades gave you _that_ impression?” he said, surprised with himself at the flatness of his tone. He wasn’t used to being able to control his temper around his sister.

Raven rolled her eyes, her hand reaching for Omen, “Look, if you’re just going to bitch and moan and be _you-“_

“-you’ll run at the first sign of trouble? How original,” he sniped, the words tumbling past his lips before he could stop them.

The look she gave him probably would’ve struck him down if he wasn’t so used to receiving them. “I just wanted-“ she gritted her teeth, glowering down at the snow in an attempt to pull her words together. “I just wanted to see you. To see how you’ve been.”

He couldn’t help the flicker of anger that rose inside him. She only had herself to blame for not knowing how he’d been. “When did you start caring, Rae?” Qrow asked, a genuine hint of curiosity in his cool tone.

She looked up and that violent red filled Qrow’s field of vision. “I’m _trying_ to care, asshole, but right now you’re making it difficult,” she ground out. There it was. The flicker of power in her eyes that could smite him on the spot. He wasn’t scared, though. He hadn’t feared his sister in a very long time. She drew a deep breath, let it out shakily. Tried to draw twitching fingers away from the hilt of her blade. “You want to know the truth?” she asked, her voice sounding small all of a sudden.

He considered her for a second, wishing he felt even a flicker of emotion at hearing his sister small and scared like that. He nodded slowly, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted.

“I knew that if you rejected me, it would hurt the least,” she said, and if he didn’t know her so well, he might have missed the quiver in her voice. “You were always a cynical asshole, Qrow. You always saw the worst in everybody.”

Qrow clicked his tongue. It wasn’t a lie. “If you went to Yang or Tai, and even they couldn’t see the good in you when you’re on your knees and begging, you finally know you’re really not worth saving,” he said. Raven’s inability to meet his gaze was all the answer he needed. He let out a low whistle. “Is that what this is about? Crawling back on your hands and knees and begging?”

An ugly sneer flashed across his twin’s face, and he knew he’d nicked her pride. But she masked it quickly. “I came to talk.”

Qrow opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by the noise of the back door opening. They both turned their heads to look, and Qrow saw the silhouette of his husband, ringed in the soft light from inside the house. There was a beat of silence, and then Clover looked to Qrow and raised his eyebrows in question. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Qrow couldn’t help but smile softly. He could always count on him. “Yeh,” he said, “Just talking.”

Raven looked between Qrow and Clover in the doorway and said, “General Ironwood’s lapdog? What’s he doing here?”

Clover prickled at that and Qrow turned his head to glower at his sister. He was about to snap at her when Clover said a soft “Honey, no-“ trying to shift to stop Jay from squirming past him. But Jay was small and slight for a three-year-old, and was able to squeeze past Clover’s leg, running out into the snow in just a t-shirt, pants, and sneakers.

“Dad!” he called.

“Sorry,” Clover said, with a wince. “He was wondering where you were.”

Qrow didn’t stop to think before he crouched down and scooped up his son into his arms, holding him tightly to the warmth of his chest. He felt more than saw his aura reaching out and enveloping Jay in a cocoon of warmth.

Raven was staring at the little boy with wide eyes. Her jaw was slack, watching as Jay cowered away from her, burrowing into Qrow’s neck and gripping at his clothes. There was no mistaking him, really. The thatch of black hair, the deep red eyes, the pale skin. He could’ve been _them,_ forty years ago, hidden away in a bandit camp in the wilderness, fending for themselves. She looked from Jay, to Qrow, to Clover, then back again.

“Dad?” Jay murmured, thinking he was speaking quieter than he really was. “Who’s that?”

Qrow’s fingers carded through Jay’s thick hair. “She’s my sister, kiddo.”

That seemed to spark something in Jay’s mind. “She looks like _us,”_ he said, resolutely avoiding Raven’s gaze.

“She does,” Qrow agreed, then looked to his sister, who still seemed frozen on the spot. He half wondered if she might just shapeshift and take flight, there and then.

Clover was coming towards them, then, ready to gently coax Jay into his arms and take him back inside. Away from the cold weather and the even colder atmosphere between the twins. “C’mon, Jay,” he said softly, holding out his arms.

“Have you lost your _gods damned_ mind?” Raven had found her voice, and it was shrill as her namesake. “Playing happy families with one of Ironwood’s thugs?”

A growl rose deep in Qrow’s chest at that, and he passed off Jay to Clover before this could get worse. “ _Don’t_ start. Not in front of my kid.”

Raven’s eyes flashed angrily. “I’m sorry if I’m having a hard time seeing how easily you moved on – from everything _we lost-“_

“How easily _I_ moved on-”

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” Clover said, over the top of Qrow, his voice stern and hard like he was barking an order. “I’m sorry, Raven, I know we don’t know each other, but _nobody_ gets to talk to him like that. _Especially_ not you.”

Raven was shocked, staring at Clover with fury in her eyes. Jay let out a little whimper and clung on harder to Clover’s shirt and Clover seemed to remember where he was, his hand finding its way to Jay’s back and rubbing circles there. He looked to Qrow, and Qrow nodded at him, reaching up to give his upper arm a squeeze. Without another word, Clover gave Raven one more hard look and then turned and went inside. Not looking back, just protecting their little boy.

Qrow watched them go, and it was one of those times that he felt like the love he had for Clover could have burst his heart. He looked back to his sister, who was still shocked into silence. He took a deep, shaky breathe. “I’m happy, Rae,” he said. Saw the scared little girl in his sister’s face. The little girl who had always protected him, even when her own fear threatened to tear her apart. “For the first time – since Summer, since _you left,”_ she flinched at that, and he saw that her eyes were filling up. Ready to spill over. “I’m really, completely happy.”

He turned around, then, and walked away from her. But something swelled in his chest and made him paused, halfway to the back door. He looked back at her, at where she was standing in the snow, her hands quivering at her sides. “You could be, too, y’know? There’s a lot of people here who want to love you. Someone who would love to meet you, too.”

He watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Knew that the granddaughter she’d never met had struck a nerve in her. For all his protestations, Qrow knew that Tai talked to her. Knew that, deep down, a part of Tai still loved her. Because deep down, he still loved her too. “It’s not too late, Raven. It never is.” He thought of himself. How he’d found his own happiness late in life. “You’ve just got to walk through the door.”

She let out a shaky, wet breath. Tears rolled off her cheeks and dropped into the snow. “Not tonight,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Not tonight,” Qrow nodded his agreement. “But soon.”

She was gone then, a single black feather drifting down into the snow in her wake.

Qrow nodded. He hadn’t expected much else, but it was something.

In the kitchen, Clover was pacing the floor, and froze when the door opened. He opened his mouth to ask, but Qrow was on him before he could, kissing him breathless.

Clover was still for a moment, but then pulled Qrow flush against his body, his arms so tight around Qrow’s narrow waist it was like he might slip away if Clover gave an inch.

But Qrow wasn’t going anywhere. He tangled his fingers into Clover’s hair and mumbled against his lips, “I love you.”

Clover kissed away the tear tracks on his cheeks that he hadn’t even realised were there, then kissed his eyelids in turn. “I’ll always love you,” he said in a hushed tone, just for Qrow.

Tai was keeping the rest of the party entertained with an outlandish, overblown tale from Beacon, his granddaughter and nephew clamouring and oohing at his every word. He saw Qrow coming in through the back door, saw the way he clung to Clover like a drowning man to air. Qrow met his eyes across the room and mouthed, “ _Soon,”_ and the blonde man tamped down on the sad chord that struck inside of him. He gave a small nod to his brother in law.

Everyone was alright. That was all that could be asked for.

Soon would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah I hope you guys liked it. Raven is just.... a complicated character who I have complicated feelings about. And I think Raven leaving had a bigger impact on Qrow than a lot of people realise.
> 
> Let me know what you think! A kudos, a review, or let me know on tumblr @baelonthebrave
> 
> Much love <3


	5. five years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changed the rating cos things get a lil spicy ;)

The living room was bathed in vivid reds and oranges that night, as the sun clung stubbornly to the horizon. The residual warmth of the day still hung around and Clover had gotten marginally more used to it through the years. He could function fairly normally through the height of summer, no longer feeling the need to hide in the shade and have every fan in the house turned up to max. No, now he only suffered a little through the height of the day and sat himself down with a glass of iced tea at night to replenish.

He’d brought another glass of iced tea through to the living room today and set it down on the coffee table next to the massive picture book of birds that had been Jay’s fifth birthday present. Qrow was sprawled across the couch and said a “thanks, babe,” without looking up from his marking. He automatically raised his legs, so that Clover could sit down. Once Clover was settled with his drink and his book, Qrow plonked his feet down in Clover’s lap.

Clover rested an arm over Qrow’s legs and opened his book to the page he was at. Blake had loaned it to him last week and he was currently halfway through it, with the plot about espionage and forbidden romance now gathering pace. He’d gotten through two pages when he noticed Qrow watching him over the top of his marking, his reading glasses sliding down his slender nose. Clover slowly and purposefully replaced his bookmark and looked to Qrow, “Yes?” he said.

Qrow had that characteristic infuriating smirk on his face and gave a shake of his head. “Nothing, I just can’t believe Elite Atlesian Ace Operative Clover Ebi likes trashy ninja romance books,” he said, with a lilt in his tone, “Always finding new ways to surprise me, Cloves.”

Clover rolled his eyes and gave Qrow’s ankle a light squeeze. “It’s not _trashy,_ it’s character driven and exciting,” he said, but Qrow’s lingering smirk said he didn’t believe him. “And my last name is _Branwen-Ebi.”_

“ _Yeah,_ it is,” Qrow said with a smug, self-congratulatory grin as he went back to his marking. But that lasted all of two seconds. “Do they at least bonk?”

“ _Bonk?”_ Clover looked up from the book again and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “Are you serious?”

“What’s the point if they don’t bonk? _Bump uglies?_ Get down to business?”

“You’re such a romantic,” Clover said dryly, resolutely returning to his book.

Qrow sniffed. “Joke’s on you, lover boy, you still married me.”

Clover did his best to bite back a smile, because he knew well enough by now that a smile would only serve to encourage Qrow. “Yeah, I did,” he said, and if there was a wistful lilt in his tone, then _sue_ him.

Some people – read: Winter – were quick to recoil from the obvious affection that they still had for each other, even after years together and with parenthood occupying their top priorities. Granted, Qrow didn’t exactly make it _easy_ for Winter. No one in the military had exactly been thrilled when their relationship became public knowledge – Qrow was notedly anti-authoritarian, anti-establishment, anti-discipline, anti- _everything_ that Atlas had stood for – but Winter had taken it more personally, feeling that there was absolutely nothing about Qrow that was worthy of a well-respected leader like Clover and making no attempt to keep her feelings secret. She’d softened over the years, of course, and took Clover’s considerable happiness into account, but Qrow predictably still took every opportunity to rub her the wrong way. Interrupting video conferences to plant sloppy kisses on Clover’s cheeks, going out of his way to be a distraction when anything with General Schnee’s name was on Clover’s to do list, even _accidentally_ sending a _private_ message meant for Clover to the wrong number and laughing when Winter tried to sue him for emotional damage.

All of that to say, their passion hadn’t waned with parenthood, or with the intervening years. If anything, Clover could happily say that the times where Qrow had their son wrapped up in his arms, reading him a bedtime story or teaching him his basic sums, that was when Clover felt the fiercest love for him.

Not that moments like these didn’t stir something deep in his chest. Moments where Qrow was languid and relaxed, long legs sprawled out in Clover’s lap, glasses slipping down his nose and unruly hair pointing in every direction. Sensing the eyes on him, Qrow looked up from his marking once more, and spoke around the pen lid he was chewing in the corner of his mouth. “What?” he said, with the barest lilt of a smile.

Clover smiled back, admiring the way that Qrow’s alabaster skin glistened in the orange wash of the dying light. “Nothing,” he intoned, “just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

Qrow flushed with pink at that and traced a drip of condensation on his glass of tea, abashed. “What’s gotten you in such a lovey-dovey mood tonight?” he asked.

Clover smirked at him, his eyes heavy lidded, and dropped his book on the coffee table with a thud. Qrow looked warily at him. “What?” the taller man asked, crawling up the couch towards Qrow, “I can’t charm my husband? You’ve never objected to being seduced before.”

Qrow turned his head away from Clover, who instead pressed a kiss to his cheek, his hairline, the hollow of his ear. “Can’t you seduce me _after_ I’ve graded this homework?” he protested weakly. It must have sounded half-hearted even to Qrow.

A petulant whine escaped Clover’s throat. “But your glasses and your old Beacon shirt and that little crease between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating,” he said, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture of Qrow’s jaw. “You look so sexy, it’s such a _tease.”_

Qrow stifled a groan, but the telltale tilt of his head to bare his neck said he was enjoying this more than he was letting on. “ _Clover,”_ he protested weakly when the man in question nipped gently at the lobe of his ear.

“ _Qrow,”_ Clover parroted. Slipped his fingertips under the edge of Qrow’s shirt and smoothed the pads of his thumbs over Qrow’s jutting hipbones.

“You’re insatiable,” Qrow muttered, bracing his hands on Clover’s shoulders. “I’m too _old_ for this. I’m going grey, I’ve got wrinkles, I have to wear these _dorky glasses_ just to read-“

Qrow cut himself off with a whimper just as Clover nipped at his neck, laving his tongue over the angry red welt marks he’d left. Clover let out his own little groan at Qrow’s sound of pleasure, and grinned cockily. He laid his full weight over Qrow, knowing the heavy heat would drive his husband mad, not caring about the sound of paper crumpling between them. “Your hair is sexy,” Clover insisted, pressing a kiss to the untameable mess of salted black. “Your laugh lines are sexy,” he said, and kissed the crow’s feet at the edges of red eyes and the creases that came out when Qrow smirked in that infuriating way of his. “Your _glasses_ drive me crazy,” Clover said, and dropped a hot, wet kiss on Qrow’s thin lips. “You should keep them on,” he said with a smirk, as he started tugging at the edge of Qrow’s t-shirt.

That made something rumble in Qrow’s chest, and he begrudgingly assisted in letting Clover strip him of his shirt. His pale skin was luminous in the late evening, and his eyes watched the mesmerising press of Clover’s own golden skin to his. Long, spindled fingers knotted into short, umber hair as Clover’s affections moved to Qrow’s clavicle. A tiny whine escaped Qrow’s throat as Clover pressed against him, as though a hair’s breadth of space between them was too much.

“Baby,” Qrow whined, and for a second Clover thought nothing of it, stars bursting behind his eyes at the way Qrow tugged at his hair. “We should have another baby.”

That finally made Clover stutter to a halt. Alarmed, green eyes met half-hooded red ones. Slick lips parted in shock.

“Really?” he asked, no small amount of wonder in his tone.

Children had always been Qrow’s stumbling block, not Clover’s.

His semblance, his insecurities, everything that he didn’t want anywhere near a child.

But the little boy down the hallway was stupidly happy, and sound asleep after the end of his first week at school. It made Qrow practically glow to help him with his letters, with ten kinds of emotion that Clover would have thought would be nigh impossible for him to show just a few years ago. The drawing of their little family taped to the fridge, with accompanying shaky tracings of “Dad”, “Daddy”, and “Jay” was testament to Qrow’s tutelage. To add another gangly stick figure to the drawing on the fridge… the thought could have burst Clover’s heart.

“Really,” Qrow said, with a nod and a small smile that said he’d been thinking about it for a while.

Clover would have never pushed, but he’d always been secretly hoping.

“Always finding new ways to surprise me,” he said, searching Qrow’s eyes with a look of ceaseless wonder. He kissed the lined corner of Qrow’s mouth.

There was a familiar devious glint in Qrow’s eye. “Now shut up and help me make a baby,” he growled, and prised up the bottom of Clover’s shirt.

Clover let out a bark of laughter. Delirious happiness spread a rushing tide of warmth in his chest. “That’s _not_ how this works.”

Qrow rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into his head. “Clover, _shut up_ and take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir!”

The glasses stayed on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, no grading got done.
> 
> That's this story finished! Wowwww!!! I'm sorry its taken me so long to get the last chapter out, but I've just been totally floored with illness and stress and _life_ for the last month. But I'm glad I got back to it. These two warm my heart :) I think they will be even more chaotic parents once they don't have numbers on their side tho :/
> 
> Writing this has been such a fun adventure!! Please let me know what you think, either here with a review or on tumblr @baelonthebrave
> 
> Kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> Much love <3


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